The Hummingbird

The humming bird comes to the hibiscus again Frozen in light like a drop of rain And sticks its sweet tongue into her red throat Sucking to its breast while minutes float The silence of the nectars power The magic of the evening hour. The humming bird's feathers fracture light And from its single shade colors bright Spill against the praise of the eye, radiate Truth found in the simple and inviolate Visible where invisible is stored Beauty rinses thirst where love is poured. The humming bird transfigured in our hope Flits upon the sense, a symbol in scope More vast than our national desire To fan our wings and fracture the fire A thing of truth from beauty grows And beauty never without its graces glows